


Clear Skies, Open Hearts

by compo67



Series: Photo-Op Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Anal Sex, Banter, Bottom Jared, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Hollywood, House Hunting, M/M, Older Jensen Ackles, Oral Sex, POV Jensen, Returning Home, Schmoop, Smut, Surprises, Texas, Timestamp, Top Jensen, Twink Jared Padalecki, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:40:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22767139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compo67/pseuds/compo67
Summary: Set in between “House of Gold” and “What the Hell.”Jared and Jensen are in the middle of buying a house. Little does Jared know, Jensen’s also been making plans for an unforgettable Valentine’s Day. Jensen has big picture plans and ambitions.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Series: Photo-Op Verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/255763
Comments: 23
Kudos: 164





	Clear Skies, Open Hearts

Talent agents love promising big numbers. 

Entertainment lawyers love charging big numbers. 

Jensen walks in and out of meetings throughout the Warner Brothers’ studio offices in Burbank. He’s been in the Los Angeles/Burbank area for the past thirty-one hours. 

Not that he’s counting or anything.

Although he’s grateful for his career and the opportunities to even have these meetings, he enters yet another giant conference room in body only, not in spirit. His mind continues to stray, despite all his best attempts at staying focused. He grabs a bottle of Evian from the center of the shiny, solid oak table and decides to put a croissant out of its misery. 

Carbs. He misses them so much. 

He selects a seat closest to the windows in the still empty room. 

Not a minute later, John sits next to him on his right and gives him a nudge to the shoulder. 

“If you keep that up,” John murmurs, referencing Jensen’s restless legs, “I’m gonna staple your feet to the floor.” 

In room after room full of people that may or may not have Jensen’s best interests in mind, he appreciates John’s presence--even under threat of having his Armani boots stapled to the conference room floor. They’ve been to three soul-sucking, smile-like-you-mean-it meetings so far since six this morning. 

Leaning into John, Jensen replies, “Last time you said you’d duct tape. Are staples an upgrade?” 

“Yup. Look. You have two more after this, then you’re home free.”

“I know, but…” 

“Did that sound like an invitation to argue with me?”

“No,” Jensen says, with a snort and a smirk. “But it’s the day before Valentine’s Day  _ and _ we’re in the middle of buying a house.” He switches to his best Godfather impression. “I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse: get me the fuck home.” 

John allows the tiniest smile to peek through his hardened, professional exterior. 

Before Jensen can continue to protest or expand on why getting out of here remains at the top of his agenda, John clears his throat and nods towards the door. Jensen’s lawyer and his agent simultaneously appear, followed closely by lawyers and staff from the WB, as if summoned from the depths of Hollywood’s ninth circle of hell. 

With a deep breath, Jensen buckles in and gets down to business. 

\--

Buying a house isn’t exactly new territory to Jensen.

He’ll be turning thirty-three in just under a month. In his twenties, he bought the condo in Los Angeles and the house in Miami--one location near work and one as far as he could get from work. 

Around this time last year, he had an eye on the market in Vancouver. However, something told him to hold off on that for a minute. 

Fast forward one year later and he’s toured a total of three places with a certain someone who is abso-fucking-lutely the love of his life. 

He’s glad he waited. 

Touring houses never interested him. He chose his previous places out of convenience or desperation. To him, they were spaces where he could sleep on the same mattress for a couple days at a time and stash his shit without hauling it all over the country. In an attempt to feel more like he actually lived in the Miami house, he spent a solid week painting the rooms. At the end of it, he liked the rooms better, but the house maintained the persistent feeling of a movie set. 

Now, at six in the morning, Jensen quietly enters a rental house in a sleepy part of North Austin. 

Given the hour, he expects the house to be silent and still. 

“I hear you,” a familiar voice calls out from the kitchen. “And I’m not talking to you.”

Jensen grins and drops his luggage, his keys, his hat, his sunglasses--well, his everything--and heads over to the kitchen. 

He finds the love of his life standing at the kitchen island with a complete breakfast laid out for the two of them. 

“Honey.” Jensen holds his arms out for a hug, effectively ruining the surprise bouquet of flowers hidden behind his back. “Angel. Baby.  _ Darling _ .” 

Jared shakes his head, folds his arms across his chest, and refuses to look at him. “Don’t you dare, Jensen Ackles. Don’t you dare.”

“What if I dare just a little? A teensy bit? Just a smidge?” 

“Your flowers are dead.”

“...so they’re a little tired. I bought them yesterday, before my flight got delayed.” 

“A likely story.” 

Jensen sets the flowers down on the counter and hugs Jared from behind. He rests his chin on Jared’s shoulder. “How about… sweetheart?” 

The smallest crack appears in Jared’s tenuous facade. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, which looks incredibly kissable this morning. 

Jensen rocks them back and forth. “Will you forgive me if I say I have a surprise for you later? And if I tell you how utterly gorgeous and adorable and handsome and wonderful and forgiving you are?” 

The facade begins to melt away. 

“Maybe. Keep going.” Jared turns so that they’re chest to chest, nose to nose. 

In turn, Jensen turns on the puppy eyes. “What if I told you I couldn’t stop thinking about you the entire time I was gone? And I signed off on a bunch of contracts that I can’t remember a lick of. Let’s hope I didn’t sign onto something that would upset my fiance.”

“Like a movie that films in Antarctica for three years, maybe?” Hazel eyes filled to the brim with sincerity and trust look at him, causing his heart to skip two beats. “What if your fiance finds out you’re here with me instead?” 

“He won’t,” Jensen murmurs, dipping in for a kiss. “I promise.”

The second their lips press together, Jensen knows he’s home. Sure, it might be a rental home, but it’s theirs for the time being. And the place doesn’t matter as much as the one person in the entire world that makes it feel like home. 

One kiss turns into two, which then turns into three. 

Their hands join in on the fun, grabbing at each other as if to prove the reality of the moment. He was gone a total of two days, but it felt like two weeks. 

“I missed you, Jen,” Jared coos, in between kisses, his hands on Jensen’s shoulders. 

Melting at the way Jared says his name, Jensen sighs. “I missed you too, Jay.” 

With Jensen leaning against the counter near a window, they soak up early morning Texas sunshine. Jensen presses kisses to Jared’s cheek, then to his jaw, before finally trailing down the elegant column of Jared’s bared throat. He takes in a deep breath, capturing the intoxicating scent of vanilla, Dial soap, and cherrywood bacon. 

“Breakfast,” Jared mutters, one hand in Jensen’s hair and the other on his bicep. “I made breakfast.”

“We have a microwave.”

“Oh. Yeah. We do.” 

The rental provides them with a relaxing set-up and more privacy than any of the downtown hotels could offer. It also feels like training wheels on their way to purchasing something permanent in the Austin area. 

Lanita, their realtor, suggested this option when they started going over options on Monday. 

What Jensen really likes about the rental is the custom-made, handcarved headboard in the master bedroom.

It makes the best sound when it rattles against the wall. 

Approximately ten seconds after determining that breakfast could _ \--must- _ -wait, Jensen pulls Jared into bed with him. 

They fall, tangled in each other. 

Jared laughs, loud and clear, and returns every kiss with fervor. Jensen indulges and basks in the sensation of their mouths pressed together. He bites down on Jared's bottom lip, then tugs with the right amount of pressure to make Jared shudder and moan. 

Jared hitches his leg over Jensen’s hip to pull them closer together. 

Friction from their jeans provides a tantalizing warm up as their hips grind together. Heat builds in the small of Jensen’s back, adding to the flush across his face. He runs his hands through Jared’s hair, lightly tugging as the intensity of their kissing surges. Jared urges him on, absorbing every push, pull, and one-two punch of Jensen’s teeth sinking into his neck. 

Jensen skims his fingers along Jared’s thigh, teasing, keeping his touch light and evasive. In response, Jared huffs, and tries to lift his hips. As reward and punishment, Jensen pushes Jared further into the mattress, leveraging his weight. He allows Jared to feel the heavy weight of his cock tented in his jeans. 

“Holy fuck,” Jared groans, eyes fluttering. “You really  _ did _ miss me.”

Smirking, Jensen stops teasing and palms the equally hard tent in Jared’s jeans. He loves this particular pair of jeans Jared has on--they’re worn in and soft, and easy to take off. 

They’re going to buy a house together. 

They’re going to have a permanent bed to share. 

A bed that doesn’t have bleached, stiff sheets. A bed he can fall into and rest because Jared will be next to him. Not just for a night or two at a time. They’ll talk about their day, kiss each other goodnight, have sex, and wake up to each other for the rest of their lives in that bed. 

All because they met at the photo op booth. 

Jared nudges Jensen’s chin. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey, you,” Jensen answers, their movements momentarily paused. 

With his hands framing Jensen’s jaw, Jared smiles. “You okay?” 

“I’m with you, sweetheart.” He dips down and kisses Jared’s nose. “I’m more than okay.” 

Dimples frame a breathtaking grin. “Good. Stay with me.” 

Who could turn down that command? 

The words themselves make Jensen weak in the knees… though not weak anywhere else. Jared helps him get back on track by wiggling underneath him. They laugh, tumble around, and manage to figure out how to get rid of their clothing.

Jared’s warm, smooth skin underneath Jensen's hands provides additional reassurance: Jensen isn’t in a lonely, sterile hotel room somewhere far away, dreaming and pining. He’s not in a meeting. Not on set. Not stale-smiling for the cameras or bullshitting yet another reporter about his favorite color. 

His hands drift over every square inch of Jared, sometimes squeezing, sometimes teasing. He incorporates equal parts adoration and lust into each touch. 

He kisses Jared, deep and commanding, and lines up their cocks. 

“Shit,” Jared gasps, bucking slightly. His cock twitches in response to Jensen’s first thrust, sliding them together. 

They each look down, fixated by the sight. Jensen bites his bottom lip, trying in earnest not to come right then and there. Their cocks bob and twitch against their stomachs. Jared’s cock slaps against a tiny mole next to his belly button--the pink, glistening head a perfect contrast. 

Jensen wraps his hand around them both, splicing together a rhythm of long strokes and short, firm squeezes. He rubs his thumb in a circle around the head and underside of Jared’s cock.

Jared closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then grits out a high-pitched whine of warning. “Jen…” 

“Me too,” Jensen groans into Jared’s chest. “We can do the whole slow and romantic stuff later, right?”

“Yeah, yes--holy fuck, you’re…” 

“We promised, didn’t we?” Jensen strokes himself, letting his cock slap against Jared’s. “Did you keep yours?” 

“Maybe,” Jared snickers. “You’re such a dork, Jen.” 

“Guilty. Now.” He stands up and hauls Jared to the edge of the bed, holding him up by the legs. “Try not to lose it too fast.” 

Before Jared reacts, Jensen leans down and starts blowing him. 

He has big picture ambitions. 

Every sound Jared makes--whines, groans, shouts, gasps--ramps up the electricity between them. He relishes the salty sweet taste of come on his tongue. Jared’s hips stutter and the muscles in his thighs, ass, and stomach work hard as Jensen licks him from root to tip. 

People have often told Jensen he’s got a mouth made for this.

He’s got a mouth made for Jared.

Adding pressure by creating a tight seal with his lips, Jensen moves up and down. He groans when Jared’s cock gives an impressive twitch. Taking Jared as deep as he can, keeping his mouth wet and open, Jensen blows him through a litany of cursing and shouting. 

Jensen pops off two seconds before Jared loses control. 

He licks his lips and lets Jared pull him in for a sultry, filthy series of earth-shaking kisses. 

Jared’s chest rises and falls in staccato bursts as he pants and continues kissing Jensen whenever and however he can. “Please, Jen, please…” 

Begging never sounded so sweet. 

“I got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, hauling Jared up towards the center of the bed. “I got you.”

Never has he wanted to give more of himself to anyone than he does now. 

And it’s time to make the headboard sing.

Jensen gently knocks Jared’s knees apart, making room for himself. He fits right into the space Jared provides him--familiar and comfortable. Jared hands him a bottle of lube and lies back, openly admiring the view as Jensen preps and lines them up. 

There are so many ways they could have each other. 

However, face to face, nose to nose, offers the perk of looking into those sweet hazel eyes. 

Skin against skin, the initial resistance gives way to euphoric, tight, delirious pressure.

Jensen shuts his eyes for a split second, the head of his cock disappearing, sinking in, sliding into exquisite heat. Jared sighs, then lets out a moan that would make every Texas church lady clutch her pearls seven ways to Sunday.

Jared  _ has _ to know how good he looks in moments like these. 

If there’s any doubt, Jensen works to make sure he knows. 

Tumultuous and chaotic, Jensen moves his hips in a rhythm exuding raw lust. He dips into Jared, rocks against him--fucking into him deep and dominant. The muscles in his arms work overtime to hold him up, while his thighs push against Jared’s. Beneath them, the mattress springs keep tempo. Overhead, the headboard begins a head banging remix. Underneath him, Jared watches Jensen’s hips move, totally transfixed.

Jensen changes the pace on a dime. 

He captures Jared’s mouth with his own and wrings out the most harmonic cluster of gasps. Their teeth clash, tongues spar, and hands conquer every available sweaty, slick surface. Jensen thrusts hard enough to make the bed shake. 

Jared takes every thrust with unrivaled perfection. 

Eyes locked on Jensen, Jared maintains a honeyed sweetness in his eyes while simultaneously challenging Jensen to bring his A-game. Jared clenches the muscles in his hips and ass on every third or fourth thrust. He tightens, winds up, and makes Jensen not only work for a deeper angle, but to let go. 

Let the fuck go. 

Fever and fixation drive Jensen forward with complete abandon. He gives into every impulse, every urge, every aching, pining, piercing howl of longing. Heat winds down his back, slips into his hips, and settles at the base of his heavy, flushed cock. With every tip and tilt of his hips, he aims for a specific place and masters that target. 

Jared takes advantage of the fact that Jensen had to grow his hair out for his last movie. 

He pulls Jensen’s hair at exactly the right moment and urges him onward. 

“Harder,” Jared growls into his ear, breathing hard. His voice filters out like dark, tinted glass. “Fuck me harder.” 

Selective. Attention. Dizzying. Drowning. Percussion work. Thudding. Banging. Pounding. 

An undeniable addiction to the whisper whined word, “ _ Please _ .” 

Jensen lets out a moan and fills the room with unencumbered primal lust. 

Jared yanks him down, crushes their lips together, then provides a pristine yell for Jensen to swallow. With Jensen’s help, Jared comes in a flood of pearly white. Their promise to refrain from getting off solo in Jensen’s absence yields the best results. Ropes of come hit Jared’s chin, chest, and stomach. 

Jensen licks a line of come off of Jared’s chest, kisses him, and pounds into his own stomp-shout-starlight orgasm.

He’s never come this hard in his  _ life _ . 

Falling in love with Jared? 

His heart never stood a chance. 

\--

Three hours and multiple orgasms later, Jensen eats breakfast in bed. 

“Slow down,” Jared laughs, grabbing a piece of bacon from the tray full of food on Jensen’s lap. “No one’s gonna take your food.” 

Adding syrup to his pancakes, Jensen tries not to talk with his mouth full. “Eating you out made me hungry.” 

Jared rolls his eyes and lies back down in bed. He wrestles some blankets from Jensen and curls up, warm and comfortable. From the nest of sin-soaked blankets, hazel eyes peer up at Jensen. 

“Jen?” 

“Sweetheart?” 

“You sure you don’t mind working on the music video during your time off?”

“Honey, I love working on it.” Jensen takes a long sip of hot coffee made just the way he likes it. “Fuck, that’s good. You know, I think this is the best breakfast in bed I’ve ever had.” 

Dimples flash. “Yeah?” Jared stretches, then runs a hand through his hair. “I have another Valentine’s gift for you, but it’s gotta wait until Vegas.” 

“Oh, a man of mystery, huh?” 

“More like it’s custom-made and it takes time, but yes.” 

“Do I get a hint?” 

“Fuck no.”

“Damn. Breaking my heart already.”

“I mean, I did also make dinner plans for us tonight.”

“You’re fixin’ to spoil me,” Jensen says, grinning. He sets the breakfast tray aside and lies down next to Jared, wrapping his arms around him and pulling them close. “First I get the best welcome home, then breakfast in bed, a surprise for Vegas,  _ and _ dinner?” 

Jared snorts and tangles his fingers in Jensen’s hair. “You’re right, that’s way too much for you. Your fiance’s gonna find out and we’ll both be in a world of trouble.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jensen murmurs, pressing a kiss to Jared’s forehead. “Can’t have that. But you know… no one treats me as good as you do, Jay.” 

Pleased, Jared smiles and nudges Jensen’s chin. “You had too much sugar, didn’t you?” 

“Sugar and booty,” Jensen snickers, then reaches around and gives Jared’s ass a friendly-hello-there squeeze. “Ten out of ten dentists recommend starting your day with sugar and booty.” 

“That… doesn’t even make sense.”

“Leave my last two brain cells alone--they’re trying.” 

“You should preserve those brain cells and take a nap. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to get ready for dinner.”

“Hmm. What time’s the reservation?”

“Seven.”

“That’s enough time, I think.”

“For you to sleep?”

“Nope.” Jensen pulls away for a second to blindly reach for his phone on the nightstand. “I made some plans for us today too. We gotta head out by two, two thirty the latest.” 

Jared perks up and rolls closer to Jensen, practically laying on top of him. His eyes sparkle, wide with curiosity. “You made plans?  _ You _ , Jensen Ackles, made plans?” 

Jensen huffs. “Of course I made plans! What kind of future husband would I be if I didn’t make plans for my beloved on Valentine’s Day? I’d have to be punished. Which, you know, I could probably use a spanking…”

“Tell me,” Jared quips, now straddling Jensen--an extremely attractive position. 

“You’re just gonna ignore the part about spanking?” 

“Tell meee.” 

“No.”

“Fine.” 

“What?”

“I’ll resort to sexual blackmail.”

“Jay.”

“I’ll just grind against you like so… and then do nothing about it.”

“...I’m flattered you think I could get it up again.”

“Ugh. C’mon! Tell me!” 

“Nope, nope, nope.” 

“I’ll die if I don’t know.”

“A tragedy. I look really good in black though.”

“Jen!”

Jensen places his hands on Jared’s shoulders, looks him square in the eye, and says, “Sweetheart, you’ll have to wait. Now, I need a shower.”

Jared follows Jensen for the rest of the day like a second shadow, occasionally chirping at Jensen to spill the beans.

“What should I wear? Is it gonna be cold? Warm? Is it far? Should I bring snacks? Are we driving? Parasailing? Do I need to warn my momma ahead of time? Did you take a life insurance policy out on me?”

It makes withholding the surprise that much more satisfying. 

They glide through the rest of the day like two peas in a pod. Jensen wears his favorite pair of Calvin Klein jeans, a Cowboys shirt, and one of Jared’s red hoodies. He sits at the kitchen island and watches Jared make them lunch--dressed in those same velvety soft jeans from before and one of Jensen’s powder blue v-necks.

Over turkey wraps, chips, and ice-cold beers, they catch each other up on the past two days. 

In the most animated language, Jared tells Jensen about a series of dreams he’s had. One dream had them raising a set of triplets in California. Another dream contained a version of Jensen as a dairy farmer and Jared as a barista. And one where they lived in Chicago, of all places.

“Don’t look at me like I’m crazy,” Jared laughs, throwing a potato chip at him. “All those versions of you would have told me your plans by now anyway.”

Jensen can’t stop smiling. He forces himself to try and it just doesn’t happen. 

Not even when Jared asks him to do the dishes does he stop smiling. Look at him. He’s smiling like a damn fool doing the dishes. 

He washes, Jared dries. 

For an hour, they hang out in the living room, on one of the larger leather sofas. Jared turns the TV onto HGTV and brings out a list he’s worked on in Jensen’s absence. Jensen reads through the list, admiring Jared’s neat handwriting and perceptive observations. 

“I don’t wanna be those people who don’t buy a house because they didn’t like the color of the walls,” Jared explains, spreading out photos Lanita gave them of other options in and around Austin. “I hate those people. Like, why do you care?! You can paint over it!” 

“Right,” Jensen snickers. “What gets me is when they have a million dollar budget and one of them is something like a hamster trainer and the other is a marshmallow farmer.” 

Jared raises his hands in frustration. “I know! Augh, it kills me!” 

“I sorta like the space in this one.” Jensen points to one house located near Barton Springs. “But it’s further West than I’d like from the airport. Not that it’s a major dealbreaker, but ehh.” 

“I kinda liked that one too, but the foundation is old.” Jared flips through a few pictures. “And the roof needs to be replaced, so I think it can go into the ‘not really’ pile.”

Pride threatens to overwhelm Jensen. He might actually break into song right the fuck now. 

“Look at you,” Jensen says, bringing Jared in for a kiss. “Can I tell you how much I appreciate your smarts?” 

A blush spreads over Jared’s face. He returns the kiss and holds a piece of paper close to his chest. 

“Thank you,” he replies, quiet and serious. “I… thank you for listening and taking what I have to say into consideration. I know this is new to me, but you know, I really appreciate being able to… uh… wow, I’m rambling. Okay, shutting up now.” 

Jensen bumps their shoulders together and rubs Jared’s back. He keeps his tone calm and steady while maintaining eye contact. 

“I know I fuck up sometimes,” Jensen admits with a brief smile. “But I’m learning. You’re teaching me how to listen and I’m all ears. We’re partners, right?” 

The beaming, bright smile he receives in return tempts him to spill the beans about his afternoon plans. 

Fortunately, Jared continues showing him pictures of houses, and Jensen keeps his resolve. 

They debate back and forth the merits of buying a place with a swimming pool versus a place on a river or lake. Privacy continues to be a key requirement, disqualifying a number of options downtown. Being near the airport matters, but not so close to the airport that they’ll constantly hear planes overhead. They each agree that anything more than three thousand square feet feels excessive for the two of them and the occasional guest, but they would enjoy having enough space to host friends and family. 

On their list of perks, Jensen writes down, “wet bar” and Jared writes down, “big kitchen.” 

Time passes in a comfortable continuum. 

As they prepare to leave for The Big Surprise, Jared thinks out loud about two of the places they’ve seen with Lanita. There’s the one for $2.5 million, six thousand square feet, and the one for $2.3 million, three thousand square feet. 

In the car, after putting on his seatbelt, Jared continues to work on his list. 

“You know, I think the shortcomings Lanita sees in the second one, aren’t really shortcomings for us.” 

Jensen checks his phone, sends a text to John, and starts driving. It feels good to drive his own car. “Yeah, I think I agree with you on that. The only thing I’d change about it is the backyard.” 

“It’s small, but it’s not  _ that _ small.” 

“As long as we can fit a barbeque pit.”

“Pfft. You’re gonna burn down our home, Jen.”

“Hey! I’m an expert. A professional.”

“Yeah, okay, future manager of Franklin’s.” 

“Ugh, that sounds good right now. Let’s do that for lunch tomorrow.”

“Unless you can pull strings, I’m not waiting in line for five hours to eat brisket.” 

“Honey, I would never, ever put you through that kind of stress.”

“Oh good. I’m glad I’m marrying a man who has connections for good barbeque.” 

“As you should be, it’s just one of the perks of Club Jensen.”

Jared laughs so hard, he drops his list. 

\--

After a thirty minute drive--and a quick stop at Starbucks on the way--Jensen and Jared arrive at their destination. Jensen parks the SUV and claps his hands, ready to go. 

He gets out of the car and opens the door for Jared.

Arms crossed over his chest, Jared grumbles, “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.”

Jensen shrugs and laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ll hold your hand.”

“You’re damn right you will, Jensen!” 

“You’re not even close to where I’m standing.”

“Well, excuuuuuse me! Good lord, I swear if I twist my ankle or get eaten by a bear, my momma’s gonna hear about this.” 

“First of all, you look cute in a blindfold,” Jensen snickers, taking Jared’s hands. “Second, there are no bears here. Unless I suddenly pack on twenty pounds of muscle and grow a beard. Stranger things have happened.”

Jared stumbles a bit as he walks away from the car for Jensen to close the door. Dimples frame a decidedly permanent frown. “This was not part of my fantasy using a blindfold and I meant an  _ animal _ bear, you jerk. I feel grass… and I smell… trees and funnel cake? Did you bring me to a carnival?”

“No,” Jensen blurts out with a nervous laugh. “No, sweetheart. There’s a carnival nearby though.”

“Oh good,” Jared mutters. “So I can get some carnies to kick your ass if I encounter any trouble with this blindfold on.” 

“Yes, dear.”

“Hmph.”

“This way, dear.” 

“Can I take it off now? Please???” 

“No, dear. C’mon. We’re right on time.”

Jensen waves at the two figures standing outside the Old Settlers Association. Built in 1912 by Swedish pioneers, the extensive grounds feature a large, white mansion, plenty of cypress trees, cabins, a fire house museum, and a gigantic parking lot. John and Lambert--an old buddy from John’s time in the Marines--start walking towards them. 

John tries not to laugh and fails. “Wow. Even from under that blindfold, I can tell Jay’s staring daggers atcha.” 

Jared gasps and lets go of Jensen’s hand, reaching out for John. “John! Thank god! Call my momma. Tell her I’ve been kidnapped and taken to some weird carnival, or possibly a cult with funnel cakes.” 

With care, John takes Jared’s hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, I won’t let nothing bad happen.” He looks at Jensen and shakes his head. “You really didn’t give him any hint, huh?”

“Heck no.” Jensen shakes Lambert’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Lambert, John’s said good things.” 

“Who the hell is Lambert?” Jared crosses his arms over his chest again. “Why do I still have this blindfold on?” 

Lambert chuckles and motions towards a large clearing of grass on the west side of the property. “I should hope John’s said good things. I gotcha boys set up, ready to go. I’ll give you a run through, get you started. Do you have your paperwork from Tyler?”

Jensen reaches for his back pocket and hands over a three page document certifying that he’s passed the required course and met the minimum number of hours to go through with his plan. He holds Jared’s hand again as the four of them walk over. 

“Jen,” Jared says, his voice a thousand percent serious now. “I’m taking this off in ten seconds.” 

“That’s fine, sweetheart. We’re almost there.” He pats Jared’s back. “I’m sorry about that, I just wanted to keep it a surprise until the very end.” 

Jared sighs in relief and starts untying the red bandana Jensen used for a blindfold. “I trust you, Jen, I just get nervous when… oh my god.” 

An unrolled hot air balloon complete with two-person wicker basket lies on the grass in front of them. 

Jensen holds his hands up and attempts jazz hands.

“Surprise,” he says, his anxiety rising that Jared’s about to turn and haul ass back to the SUV. Perhaps he should have thought this through a little more.

Lambert and John begin the necessary preparation to get the balloon ready. 

Meanwhile, Jensen carefully watches Jared, who remains completely still, totally in shock. 

“We don’t have to,” Jensen rushes to say. “I just… thought maybe… we could try something a little different.” He waves a hand in front of Jared’s face. “Jay? Talk to me, sweetheart.” 

Blinking, Jared closes his mouth, looks Jensen straight in the eye and… 

“YES!” Jared whoops and hugs Jensen tight enough to almost bust a rib. “Oh my god, I can’t… yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Oh my god, I have to call momma. And Anza. Wait.” He grips onto Jensen’s shoulders. “Who’s flying us--Lambert or John?” 

“Neither.”

“Don’t kid, Jensen.”

“I’m your pilot.” He holds his arms out. “Right here.” 

“No. Freaking. Way.” Jared thwaps him on the chest. “Since when?!”

Jensen shrugs and grins. “You gotta have thirty hours as a pilot, which I got two years ago on kind of a whim. Well, not really a whim--I was going for this role in a World War II air force movie, so I figured immersion would help.” 

He hands Jared his pilot’s license, which he renews every year in case another role pops up. 

“Then you just need ten hours of balloon time. I wanted to do this as an engagement present, but I was a few hours short. Lambert’s son, Tyler, flew out here last month and I logged in the last few.”

Acting has taken Jensen down some strange, strange roads. 

He didn’t get the role, but in the end, he got something much, much better. 

Jared runs a hand through his hair and laughs. “Holy hell, you’re for real.”

“For real, for real,” Jensen echoes. “You ever need me to fly a Cessna Skyhawk, I’m your man.”

“But a  _ balloon _ ?” 

“Eh, it’s all the same.”

“I think you’re completely crazy,” Jared declares and hands him back his license. “And I must be completely crazy too, because we are about to do this thing.” 

John informs them that, with their permission, the balloon is ready. 

Jensen looks to Jared, who then gives John two thumbs up. 

Filling a hot air balloon of this size takes about ten minutes. Jared asks to walk a bit closer, curious to see how it happens. Lambert offers him a quick lesson while John and Jensen hang back. 

“Please don’t tell Sherri about this until we’re back on the ground.”

“The woman carries a gun and has better aim than I do. I don’t have a death wish,” John murmurs and nods. “Not a word.” 

Jensen snaps a photo of the moment Jared realizes the balloon’s shape. 

“You’re too much,” Jared sighs with a smile. “Mr. Romantic, here.” 

“Hey, you go big or go home for the first Valentine’s Day together.” Jensen pulls him in for a quick kiss. “The heart was worth it.” 

Ten minutes later, the heart-shaped balloon stands at the ready. Excitement and a tinge of nerves courses through Jensen. He can do this. He flew in Austin twice last week--once with Tyler and once without. It’s best not to think about any unexpected terror. 

Lambert opens the door to the basket. Jared steps in first, followed by Jensen, who closes it.

Both John and Lambert help turn the flame off and on again. 

After a final check on the balloon and radios, well-wishes, and verifying wind charts, Jensen takes over. He slips on a pair of heavy duty gloves to adjust the burner, which will heat the inside of the balloon to somewhere just over two hundred degrees. Since it’s a smaller balloon, they’ll burn through about forty-five gallons of propane on their three hour trip. 

Once the burner works at full capacity, the basket starts to gradually rise off the ground. 

Jared yips and holds onto Jensen by the waist. 

The basket doesn’t wobble as they cast off. John and Lambert release the ropes.

Three feet turns into ten feet turns into fifty turns into a hundred. 

Hot air balloons are incapable of precision steering. In the air, the pilot can only control the altitude, not the direction. This is the trust it takes to fly any aircraft, but especially a heart-shaped hot air balloon on a calm day in February, with the love of his life by his side. 

Two thousand feet in the air, Jensen gauges the wind conditions, adjusts the primary burner, and gently nudges Jared. 

Jared tentatively lets go of Jensen and peers over the edge of the basket.

The entirety of Austin lies before them. 

Side by side, they look over their new city, wholly immersed in the majesty of the moment.

Somewhere out there is their first home together. 

After a kiss and a few happy tears, Jared holds out his hand. His hair ripples in the wind--sunlight adds to it a lustrous shine. 

“Pinky promise,” he says, in between bursts from the burner. 

Jensen reaches out with his free hand and loops their pinky fingers. “Anything,” Jensen answers. “Anything you want, sweetheart, I promise.”

The warmth of the sun drapes over them. Just the right amount of wind steers the balloon straight through miles and miles of crystal clear sky. They live in each individual moment, alongside sprawling, spectacular landscape, weightless and free. 

Jared locks eyes with Jensen. “I wanna make you smile whenever you’re sad. Carry you around when your arthritis is bad.” 

Oh. 

His heart never stood a snowball’s chance in hell. 

It’s Jensen’s turn to wipe away more than a few happy tears. He joins in and they sing in simply perfect harmony. 

“All I wanna do is grow old with you. I’ll get your medicine when your tummy aches. Build you a fire if the furnace breaks. Oh, it could be so nice, growing old with you.” 

Jared nudges Jensen. 

Jensen nudges Jared back.

“I’ll miss you. Kiss you. Give you my coat when you are cold. Need you. Feed you. Even let you hold the remote control. So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink. Put you to bed when you’ve had too much to drink.” 

Laughter sounds so good at two thousand feet. 

Jensen can’t stop, won’t stop, admiring Jared, who finishes the song--his voice as soft as the horizon before them.

“Oh, I could be the man who grows old with you.” He bumps their noses together. “I wanna grow old with you.” 

They’re going to buy a house and make it a home.

And then Jensen’s going to marry the hell out of Jared. 

**Author's Note:**

> happy (belated) valentine's day, loves! <3
> 
> i wanted to get this up by the actual holiday, but i had a few flare ups last week. i'm super proud of it though, since i wrote it in three days and cried while writing the ending. XD also, credit to adam sandler for the lovely song, "grow old with you" from the wedding singer soundtrack/movie. i missed these two. comments are love! <3
> 
> special thanks to C and D for helping with this. special thanks to P-folks who voted on this verse. if you'd like early access, bonus fic, fan art, etc. please visit me at compo67.tumblr.com. 
> 
> ALSO! due to apps trying to rip off ao3 and charging money to read fics--please be on the look out if my work pops up anywhere that isn't ao3, FF, Patre*n, LJ, and Dreamwidth. if you see any of my work anywhere else, it's likely i didn't consent to that (never ever post my fics on goodreads, i do not want them there). let me know either here or on tumblr. thank you so much, y'all.


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